Gettin' Your Mind Off It
by MorningHell
Summary: Sometimes we can find solace in the arms of those who seem least likely to ever offer. (SkinnerSawyer Slash, Jekyll madness, has changed to R))
1. Lucky In Love And well, Lust

**__**

Gettin' Your Mind Off Of It 

**__**

**_Rating: _**_I'm going to stick with a PG-13 rating for now, folks. Just bear with me._

****

**_Content: _**_Romance/Angst/Slash/ weird junk. Rodney Skinner/Tom Sawyer. Come on, I can't be the only one that sees the connection. ;)_

WARNINGS: Sex, language, violence and SLASH. You KNOW what that means. Gay, homosexual, whatever. If that's not your cup of tea, DO NOT READ THIS STORY, clear? So any flames, for that alone, I'll assume are nullified. Also, if you don't like the coupling, sorry. I do. 

As it stands, I will try and finish this fic, but I won't make any promises. I try, peoples. I hope you enjoy.

And with that, let the insanity begin. X_x

…

He didn't know how he was going to handle this damn silence. It cut through him hard tonight, thinking about all of this and contemplating how to process it. His mind continously danced around the scenario of Quartermain and how he died. When he died. Where. The first night he was going to spend mulling over that death. In the back of his head, he hoped it would also be the last. Tom Sawyer collapsed in his chair, staring at the desk in front of him and rubbing his temples harshly. He had felt a tightness in his throat, but was nowhere close to tears. After all, he hadn't known the man well enough for that. Instead it was more of a profound depression that added to the eerie silence around him in its depth. There had been a small celebration among the remaining league that night, both to commemorate Alan Quartermain, possibly alleviating some of the tension while his death rang heavy amidst them, and to naturally celebrate themselves and their victory. 

            Sawyer mostly kept to himself during the congregation, offering up a smile or a sarcastic comment if any statement came directed towards him. Mostly, he was thinking. Ms. Harker noticed, half-heartedly telling him to lighten up before going back to mingling with Dr. Jekyll. The others chose to say nothing more to him out of respect for what they took to be his mourning. The collaboration of Rodney Skinner's clothing sat upright in a chair a distance away, framing his apparition of a body as he jabbered on about some inane thing to the uninterested Captain Nemo. 

            After the ineptly played revelry, each of them had retired to their own quarters in this massive submarine creature that Nemo so prided himself on for a night of sure sleeplessness. See the world, that was the only real specification of their plans together for the future. Over the noise of a few randomly invited crew members, he had heard Nemo mention something about delighting in a visit to the orient, to which he heard no objection. Perhaps it would be safe to assume as much that they were headed to the east. These thoughts, however, kept young Tom in poor company. He was still enveloped in a dull silence that made him feel very, although it seemed rather emasculating to say so, lonesome. He heaved a gruff sigh, looking at the blank sheet of paper on the desk before him and returning to the concept that he had come up with earlier that day. 

            He needed desperately something to occupy his mind as of now, lest he be forced to face this current tragedy and die underneath its intensity. After leaving Africa, and Quartermain, behind, it occurred to him that he may want to write these events down. He had never considered himself much of a writer, but to remember these things as clearly as he could now somehow held a great significance. "Hmm…" he said aloud, almost shocked by the suddenness of a sound. He tapped the corner of the paper with a pen, leaning forward to scrawl down a few words. 

            'A few days back, I met a man named Alan Quartermain who told me this: I…'

            That was…no good. Sounded like some cheap Sunday article that no one ever read. He scratched out the words in a hurry and furrowed his brow in thought. 

            'The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That's what they called it when I signed up for this gig. I didn't know it then, but this shaped out to be quite an adventure.'

            Scratch. What kind of sundry crap was that? In those mere two sentences, it was already over. It came easily to him why he had never thought of writing as a career. But still, there was an oppressive yearning to document these things. What should he do, then? Make a blunt list?

            'I met this gang of awkward freaks.'

            'We took a joyride on Nemo's giant toothpick sub.'

            'Turns out Grey was more of a jackass than we thought...'

            _That sits real nice on the tongue._ Sawyer thought bitterly, letting the pen rest again in an idle state against his fingers. He wondered what everyone else was doing at the moment, surely he supposed they were awake. Maybe he could go have a late night chat with someone…anyone, really. This stuff was god damn boring. Maybe a conversation would give him more inspiration, an insight into recent events. Or maybe he was kidding himself. Even though he was sure that his comrades were all most likely very conscious, it was rude to act upon such an assumption. Who would he go to, anyway? Nemo? What would he have to say to a young ruffian? There was no normal conversation with that man. How about Skinner? Right, as if the man would actually want to prompt any meaningful discussion. There was Ms. Harker…

            The lovely vampiress. Sure, she may have had some very definite differences from the women he was used to back in America, but she did have a certain charm. He doubted that she would even give him the time of day, and seemed to be rather interested with Jekyll all the same. But then there was that moment between them at the carnival before Gray took off…she had been so willing to tend to that minor cut on his head. A very tender touch of her hand did not go unnoticed by him. And how she had held that captivating gaze with him. Suddenly he felt a very uncomfortable pressure on his crotch, growling to himself in annoyance. "Hell…" he grumbled. Actually becoming aroused at the thought of a woman glancing at him? How pathetic…The strange force, however, was not gotten rid of so easily. It intensified and he shifted his weight with a grunt, only to have the pressure leap to his stomach and push into his waist. Jumping into an upright position, he cried out in shock. "A-rmmmff!" he exclaimed, his shout muffled by a hand over his mouth. In a moment of blind panic, he struggled to swipe at his attacker, only to find him unseen. Unseen…? His arms dropped to his sides in relief as he heard the voice that belonged to the hand.

            "Relax, mate, ain't gonna hurt ya!" it chuckled, slowly removing the hand that covered his mouth.

            Sawyer panted heavily, alarm dissipating. "Skinner, what in the hell-" he snapped.

            "Just foolin' with ya!" he laughed, obviously pleased with his superb ability to utilize the element of surprise. "Didn't mean to bring ya so close to a heart attack."

            "Well you damn near did." Tom's boyish features scowled in resentment. "Now ya mind lettin' go a'me?" he said, feeling the weight of a hand still pinned on his stomach.

            "Nah, I think I'll keep you geussin'." 

            "And just what's that supposed t'mean?" he snorted, eyes searching in vain to find the face of the speaker.

            "Well aren't we touchy t'night?" he mock-scolded. "Just seein' if your were up is all."

            Tom was suddenly very wary of this affectionate state the other man seemed to be in. Perhaps Skinner was drunk…but he didn't smell like alcohol. Funny, considering that he usually did. "Yeah, well, what's on yer mind, then?" 

            "What ain't on my mind, that's the million dollar question." He replied, relinquishing the offending hand. "Just walkin' around givin' everyone a good scare is all. Bored as hell. What's the harm now, eh?"

            "Stop by Ms. Harker's room to try yer little gag and you'll find out real quick." Tom jabbed dryly.

            Skinner grumbled something with a chortle. "Why do you think I opted for you?"

            "So…how's the uh…well, you know, your…skin? I-I mean, you know, you're healin' pretty well, right?" he queried, changing the subject to recall Skinner's selfless rescue.

            "S'alright." He said, a little more seriously. "I think I got a few more in me. 'Sides, ya can hardly see the scars." Tom could hear a grin breaking his words.

            "Ha ha." He drawled. "Guess I owe you one all the same."

            "Ah, you know I had ta do it Sawyer. Couldn't let that old tin can turn you into a scrawny blond fish stick, now could I?" he defended, apparently loathe to accept any heroic mention. "We gotta watch out for each other, us extraordinary folk." 

            "Speakin' a'watchin' over…" Tom pointed out. "How long exactly were you spyin' on me?"

            "Ah mate, no need to get fussy. Just long enough to see your poetry in motion." He said, referring to Sawyer's ingenious writings. 

            Sawyer felt a somewhat cold sweat forming. How humiliating to have Skinner observe his trite draft of poorly scribbled words. "Ain't really none of your business." He mumbled, irritated. 

            "Didn't mean ta hack you off, sharpshooter." He said, somewhat amused. "Didn't know you was the writin' type."

            " 'S'cause I ain't, thanks very much." Tom muttered to him. "Now put some damn clothes on and get to bed."

            "Struck a chord now, did I?" he asked, a trickle of sincerity seeping into his tone.

            "Naw, I just think it's a little funny for a man to be in another man's room at this hour, don't you?"

            "Whatcha can't see don't hurt ya none." He laughed back, ruffling the younger man's hair. "You're riled too easy, kid."

            Sawyer grimaced and shook his head to replace his mussed locks. "Well 'scuse me if I ain't in a jokin' mood."

            "Sheesh." Skinner mused. "I knew somethin' was eatin' at ya. Sorry if I offended." He said, a bit more somber.     

            "Just a little put off about the whole deal, that's all." He sighed. "Barely escaped with our skins, you know."

            "Shook up?" he guessed, tapping him on the shoulder sympathetically. "He was a good man, no doubt about that there."

            "He was a hero, for sure…But then I guess he was a long time before ours…You think the world's gonna need us heroes again someday?" he yawned, cracking his knuckles against the wooden chair. 

            "World always needs heroes." Was Skinner's response. "No one can do good for 'emelves nowadays."

            "Yeah…" Tom swallowed, looking down and contemplating some ghost behind his eyes. 

            "Somethin' wrong?" his invisible cohort inquired after a moment of awkward stillness. 

            "Just thinkin' is all…" he said quietly. Guilt was what he was feeling. He hoped that he was hiding it well.

            "Can't fool me, Sawyer." Skinner clucked his tongue. "Somethin' else is up."

            "Oh really? And what makes you so sure about that?"

            "When people don't know you're watchin', you get to be pretty familiar with what no one wants you to see." He said factually.

            "Hm." Tom smirked, rubbing the side of his face in thought. "Well why don't you tell me, then?"

            "I'd call it stress." Skinner decided.

            "Stress." Sawyer repeated, unimpressed. "That's your diagnosis, Doc?"

            "Yeah, so tense. Must be an American thing." He taunted. 

            Despite himself, Tom let out a loud laugh. "Hey, British are the one's walkin' around with a permanent stick up their ass."

            "So maybe you picked it up along the way?"

            "Look, I'm not 'tense', okay?" he said, scratching his head. 

            "Not tense?"

            "Nope."

            "Not stressed?"

            "Nope."

            "Tired?"

            "No."

            "Sad?"

            "No."

            "Boy, you are one bloody cold bastard than, aren't you?" Skinner chuckled.

            "I…" Tom paused, then sneered. "Yeah, maybe that's just what it is." 

            "Lighten up, kid." He suggested, clamping both hands down on his shoulders. "I think I get your drift alright. Beatin' yourself up pretty hard over it, eh? This whole Quartermain deal?"

            Tom was silent, pondering his current state. Beating himself up? Hardly…Well, maybe. He shrugged one shoulder hard to try and rid it of the hand, grunting harshly. "Hmp."

            "Come on now, junior, ya don't really think you're t'blame, now do ya?" he asked, intrigued. He replaced the hand back on the other shoulder.

            "Sorry 'mate'," he scoffed. "Don't exactly have the cash for therapy at the moment, you understand."

            "Growl." Skinner teased, kneading his hands into the boy's shoulders. "Relax, Sawyer, you need t'take it easy. Stiff as a board for such a young chap."

            Tom squirmed, folding his arms. "Mmf." He mumbled uncomfortably.

            "That's what I love about Americans. All so articulate, that bunch." He said, moving his hands slower down his forearms. 

            Tom swallowed hard, averting his gaze to the desk in front of him. "Yeah, um." He cleared his throat, feeling the invisible touches on his body. Wait a minute, what was with all of this touching? "Look Skinner, what exactly are y-" he was cut off once again by a hand muffling his speech. 

            "Listen here, Sawyer…" he muttered quietly. "All this mopin' is bringin' me down. We're supposed to be celebratin', you know that? For one, we finished our little quest and two, we're on a vacation as of now, you hear? So maybe you should start actin' like it…"

            "Gmhrmm." Tom tried, lifting an eyebrow. He was no fool, he could sense what Skinner was up to. He just shocked that he was trying his little tricks on _him_. He reached up blindly for a second to remove the hand over his face. "Wait…no, what are you doin'? What…the hell do you think this…is?" his eyes scanned the air around him. 

            "Just a little stress reliever…nothing t'be worried about…" he informed, smoothing a piece of hair away from the younger man's eyes. "Ease up a little, hm?"

            "Uh, I don't really think-rrf" Tom was cut off yet again by Skinner's hand. He couldn't really find the will to protest, as confused as he was with present company currently kissing his neck. He subconsciously looked down as the hand on his shoulder suddenly traveled down to open his shirt, stroking the skin beneath his clothes. His eyes widened and his breath came shorter, one of his hands clutching at the base of the chair while the other fell into his lap. What was Skinner planning on doing? Or what was _he_ planning to _let_ Skinner do…? 

            Somewhere along the line, his lips were locked against his in a numb kiss, Tom's head swimming with shock from the whole situation. Was this some kind of joke? What was Skinner thinking? And he was standing now. Funny how he didn't remember having stood…There were arms around his body, pinning his arms to his sides and crushing his body mercilessly against another. His head was craned back, eyes half closed in a hazed stupor as he felt the kissing traveling over his chest and throat. It felt…good. In perhaps a very strange way…Good to let go for a moment and breathe, sit back and release the tension in his muscles, surrender to someone else for if only a second. He actually felt somewhat at ease for the first time since this whole ordeal began. His tousled blond hair was soon flat and strewn randomly across his face, only to be pushed away gently by some hidden force. He was panting heavily as his back hit the bed, the pressure of the man above him driving him downward and making the heat between them nearly unbearable. 

            "That's better…eh?" Skinner purred between ragged breaths, pulling Tom's shirt away completely and tossing it carelessly over a shoulder. The younger man made no response, merely laying against the bed sheets heaving slow gasps of air. Of course the idea of having sex with a man he hardly knew very well, let alone a man he couldn't see, seemed strange to him, but to hell with normality. Extraordinary circumstances were more exciting all the same… His partner suddenly seemed a little concerned about receiving no reply. "Y'alright, Sawyer?"

            Tom's eyes fell across a vast space of nothing as he shrugged. "I thought you were s'posed t'tell me." A small smile graced his dazed features. He again found himself in a kiss that came so strongly it made his tongue sore and his lungs throb, hands reaching up blindly to feel the body on top of him. There was a hand on his stomach, creeping downward easily underneath the rim of his pants and loosening the belt. Tom bit back a groan, releasing instead a quiet murmur as the hand worked its way down the rest of the distance, adding to the progressing ache that rested there. His head fell back to the side as he felt the tender caressing of lips against his neck again, the pressure in his groin increasing tenfold as the hand boldly gripped him. 

            The next moments were a great blur to him, fingers brushing against burning skin and lips grazing against sensitive areas. Vibrant sensations crawled over him, hands gripping the sheets as though they were the only thing holding him down at some points and traveling over the other man's body at others. Through the flurry of fevered groping and stroking, he lost track of when and where his shoes and pants had suddenly disappeared to or how he had managed to end up under the sheets with his arms pinned by the wrists at either side to the bed while he was helplessly ravaged. The kisses were becoming deeper and more desperate, both out of breath but continuing at an ever-increasing fervor. 

            He couldn't guess how many minutes or hours, or however it could be measured, had passed before he could feel the building sensation of relief growing within him. It was slow coming, and he was every bit sure that Skinner meant for it to be that way. His restraint at last broke and he clenched his teeth as the feeling of release rushed through him. He closed his eyes and his back arched, his consciousness wavering slightly through the wild torrent of touches and moans. When it was over, he fell limp against the bed, releasing haggard breaths and eyes watching the ceiling above him with a distant gaze.

            He felt lips press softly against his again, this time gentle and undemanding as an arm slid up to place a hand behind his head. He grumbled and kissed back just as the feeling pulled itself away from him. "…Now…" Skinner said in a husky rasp. "…now I think I just might let ya get some sleep…"

            Tom let out a small chuckle. "Gee…thanks…" he felt one last warm caress of a hand against his cheek before Skinner rolled out of the bed, standing up.

            "Sawyer…I'll see ya in the mornin', a'right?" he yawned.

            Tom leaned up onto his elbows, glancing towards where he guessed the other man would be with a dizzy grin on his features. "You the type t'love 'em and leave 'em, Skinner?"

            "Ha!" Skinner laughed. "I'll be back…you can be sure a'that. Don't want no one else getting' any ideas, though. Jealous bastards, this crew. Just gonna have to tell 'em that _I_ got to you first." 

Tom collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted. "Savin' my skin for me again?"

            "Savin' your skin." He confirmed, exiting the room and back to his quarters.

            _A/N: Okay, so this could kind of stand by itself. But it'll continue, I suppose. Thank you for reading, stay tuned. ^^_


	2. A New Sort of Tension

            Chapter Two: A New Sort of Tension

            **_Author's Note:_** _Thank you, reviewers. ^^ I'm glad to see that you don't find it pointless smut, because I wasn't sure. There are actually perhaps three or four finished chapters after this that are already going through revision, but it's far from over. I hope that I can keep your interest that long. Enjoy._

…  

            Skinner leaned back against the head board of his bed, arms resting behind his head as he stared out aimlessly at the wall in front of him. This morning had been particularly slow going for him, nothing to do but either sit around or make friendly chat with the members aboard the Nautilus crew. He didn't much feel like making friends at the moment, so here he was with only his thoughts to entertain him. And that was precisely what they were doing considering the ordeal that had taken place the previous night. 

            He found it curious that Sawyer hadn't shown up for breakfast with the rest of the league just now. He prided himself in the thought that he had tired him out that much. Still, he couldn't help but wonder where he had gotten to. It was well into the afternoon and he'd neither seen nor heard from him. Not that he had expected to. Or…maybe he had a little. His thoughts drifted back to how the night before had even come about…

            Since the moment he saw that kid, it'd been a scar on his face. He was maybe a little clumsy and at times bullheaded, but there was something about him that was close to maddening. He had always felt a little protective of him. Possesive, even. He was never quite sure why. He figured it was just the guy's happy-go-lucky character, that charisma that made him so likable, and that he could easily shake off its affects in a matter of time. Unfotunately, the case had been the opposite. That strange something only intensified, burned and ate at Skinner's curiousity until he could hardly stand it. It built up, he supposed. Overflowed. And the result had gotten a tad out of control.

            It was late, and he knew that no one would be sleeping. It was just one of those nights. After a while of lying on his back and staring off into nowhere, he decided that a roam around the ship couldn't hurt. He did some exploring for the first hour or so, checking out the eccentric décor that lined the walls and hallways. He wondered where Nemo had managed to get the cash for all this gaudy trash, and why, if he had this money, would he spend it as such? With the money it took to build a flying toothpick like this, he surely could have purchased his own small country at the same price. After examining a particular item of strangeness -some little statue of a thing with six arms- and incidentally dropping it, he decided that he would find a room with less expensive items…The thing still had five arms, who would notice, anyway?

            Walking along the hallways back to his own room, he decided that he was perhaps indeed the only one about, until, as it were, he happened upon Sawyer's room. Just out of chance, purely random chance…so he told himself. He heard the clucking of his boots against the floor as he paced around, light still coming from the partially open door. Everyone else he'd looked in on had been at least trying to sleep. He crept in the door, watching the young man wandering around the room between the desk and the bed, obviously in some kind of deep thought. He eventually gave up and plopped down in his chair with a sigh and rubbing his head in what was either tiredness or aggravation. He seemed troubled, and it didn't take a clairvoyant to guess the reason. 

            Skinner walked up and leaned his elbow down on the back of the chair, observing Tom's weary state. _Poor kid…_he thought sympathetically, seeing him take up a pen in his hand and scratch something down on the sheet of paper before him. Apparently unsatisfied with it, he crossed it away and returned to thought. He repeated this a few more times before returning into a dead state of stillness, enveloped in a veil of morose contemplation. Now he couldn't really be blamed for what transpired after that. He just wanted to give him a little jump start, get the guy to lighten up, that's all. He hadn't expected him to panic. In a moment of shock, he clamped a hand down over his mouth and laughed to himself, shouting out hurriedly for Tom to calm down. He didn't want the whole ship to come running up here.

            Once he had calmed down, he was readily coaxed into a somewhat peaceable conversation, wherein Skinner led a covert interrogation as to what was bothering him. He was forlorn and distant, unwilling to share any personal feelings, which made things difficult, but not impossible. It wasn't hard to see why he seemed so alone, Quartermain had been something of a father figure to him, the member of the league that he had been closest to. In fact, he hadn't even really talked to the others much at all, and he was taking this whole thing pretty damn hard, sitting there like the weight of the world sat on his drooping shoulders. He was such a fiery character, now reduced to what looked something like a dog that had been repeatedly kicked in the ribs. Skinner had felt pity for him, but it was more than that. He couldn't very well let him sit here like this all night. If he didn't loosen up a little bit, he'd never get any sleep, and that would only make him feel worse the next day. So yes, he could maybe write it off as a…charitable donation of sorts.

            The next few memories of what happened made him grin to himself. Sawyer had surrendered easily, allowing Skinner to do as he saw fit. And that he did. He wasn't sure exactly why he had done it. Like he had always known, there was just something about this kid that made him hold his gaze a little bit longer, something that made him put just a little more meaning into what he said to him. He was special, not like the other casual interests he had picked up in the past, male or female. It was some force that had hit him just before he left the kid dazed and spent and sitting in his bed with a groggy expression and that lop-sided grin on his face. It seemed like every odd and hidden feeling he had for Tom came to the surface right then. Damn, he was a cute kid... After that, he had suddenly felt strange about Tom's powerful allure, and he let out a final quip and left the room as to avoid the blank stare he had been allowing himself to spiral down into.

            He had been thinking about it all this morning. Once again he was trapped with nothing to do but let his own thoughts circle in his mind. He was tired of it. When he left the others after breakfast, most of them still sat at the table talking to old Nemo, who they seemed to find fascinating. Perhaps he would go and join in on the conversation after all to try to break himself of these frivilous thoughts. Maybe this way he wouldn't miss anything important. He stood and walked back out of the room, straightening his jacket as he did so and walking down the hall. It was a rather long walk on the gargantuan ship, the halls alive with crew mates scuttling by with short 'hellos' and the whiring of machinery around him. As he came across a familiar pedestal, he realized that the miniature statue figurine had vanished…maybe Nemo did notice it after all. Still, five arms out of six wasn't bad… Eh, how were they going to trace it back to him, anyway? He returned to the room in high spirits, glancing around for the others, but when he did arrive back where the league had once been assembled, he was met by only two members that remained. 

            Dr. Jekyll stood across from Sawyer, who was closest to the doorway. As Skinner approached, his demeanor changed upon seeing the manner in which the two faced each other. Jekyll seemed to be seething, one hand leaned on the table in what he could only assume was a struggle with Hyde as he glared at the boy before him. Sawyer stood with a clenched fist, anger pulsating through every breath between his words. "You think you have it in ya, you son of a bitch?" he snapped.

            "Don't _push_ me!" Jekyll warned, pounding the table once with his fist. 

            "Yeah, go to hell!" Tom barked, his voiced reverberating slightly off the walls. "You and your half-wit gorilla!"

            "Whoa, whoa, take it easy, Sawyer…" Skinner said, cautiously touching his shoulder and glancing from him to Jekyll in a state of utter bewilderment. 

            "Ah!" Tom spat, throwing the hand off him and turning to storm out of the room.

            "Wait, hold up!" Skinner called, to no avail however, as he disappeared. Jaw dropping slightly, his attention turned back to the other man. "What in the bloody hell is goin' on in here?"

            Jekyll was panting, tremors going up one hand as though he were suppressing some unimaginable rage. "I'm tired of babysitting that little toddler!" he roared. "Toss him overboard and drown the damn brat!" 

            "_What_ is goin' _on_?" Skinner repeated. 

            "He has the nerve…the _nerve_!" he growled, all but ignoring him. 

            "What's gotten in t'you? Or…him? Or…well…_what the hell is going on?_" he asked incredulously. 

            "Nothing out of the ordinary…" Jekyll replied, glaring hatefully in the direction where Tom was last seen. "Just your average tantrum. Boarish American trod!"

            "The two a'you was all chummy just last night, and now I come out here t'find you at each other's throats? Like _hell_ nothin' outta the ordinary!" Skinner threw up his hands, demanding some kind of answer. 

            "Well I don't suppose it's any of your business, Mr. Skinner." Jekyll said darkly, straightening up. 

            "Really? Judgin' by that little scene, I'd guess it was the whole damn crew's business. An' when you start talkin' about gettin' rid of 'im like that-"

            "Why don't you ask _him_ then?" Jekyll sneered. "If you're so intent on playing the mediator."

            Skinner grunted, folding his arms. "I don't care much t'see you and the kid duke it out. It wouldn't be pretty an' I don't think Nemo would appreciate ya bangin' up his ship." 

            "I should let Hyde pound him into the ground…" he rumbled, shifting a wayward glance towards a hanging mirror. "What good has he been? You're telling me you wouldn't like to reprimand the little twat just once with a quick backhand?"

            "I risked my life for that kid, don't think for a minute I don't care about his well bein'." He stated sternly. 

            "And just why is that? I would've let him burn, save us the trouble!"

            Skinner narrowed his eyes and calmly chose his words. There was something horribly off about this. "You that little of a man?" he retorted, suddenly very wary of what action that statement might provoke.

            Jekyll stopped, silent for a long while and staring at the ground. Suddenly he seemed very confused. "Yes…no, I mean I didn't mean…" the color drained from his face and his lip twitched.

            Skinner was beginning to wonder if he was in his right mind, or even his own mind. He was acting like a maniac. 

            "I don't want to hurt him…" he sighed suddenly. "It's…it's Hyde that doesn't like him. He-he's just so…difficult to control sometimes…"

            Skinner swallowed. "You'd best _get_ him under control, Jekyll. I don't want that boy touched, and I'm sure no one else on this tank wants to face Hyde on a bad day, either."

            "I don't want to hurt anyone, really, I don't…" he looked up at him with a pleading gaze. "Hyde is so damn…jealous…and angry. And I feel like I can't stop him…He… he thinks that Sawyer is after Mina…"

            Skinner shook his head, annoyed. "You've got t'be kiddin' me…"

            "He admitted to having an interest in her." Jekyll defended. 

            He felt a pang of jealousy that he tried to ignore. "That so?"

            "And then he denied having those feelings any longer…Hyde didn't believe him. He's maddening! He won't _shut up_!" he looked into the mirror scornfully. "He is always _there_. At my back…"

            Skinner looked over, but only saw Jekyll's own reflection. "You _can_ control 'im. There ain't nothin' he can do so long as you don't pop open one a'your potion deals there."

            "You're wrong…" Jekyll put both hands to the sides of his head, sitting down in one of the table chairs. "_He_ can control _me_." 

            "What are you sayin'?" 

            "You don't know what it's like." He looked up. "You don't understand. I care for Ms. Harker. Mina…I like her very much. But Hyde…Hyde is _lusting_ after her…filling my head with these disgusting and twisted…images…that I care never to see again…I do not only fear for the safety of my sanity…but for _her_ safety as well. For everyone's safety…"

            Skinner reeled at this new turn of events, caught between mild sympathy and guarded caution. It was a definite problem. He knew from the first day that Jeykll/Hyde would be a dangerous addition to the league, but he was sure that he could take care of himself. After all, he hadn't expected to care as much about the other crew members as he did. And it was making him more than a little nervous to think of the beast's vendetta for Sawyer. Why was he thinking this? Would Hyde _really_ go after him? It was one fucked up situation, to put it in simpler terms. 

            "Please, Skinner…" Jekyll said solemnly. "Please keep him away from me."

            "You listen good, Jekyll," he started. "You'd better fight that other half a'yours, because it ain't nobody's responsibility but _yours_. If you let the brute get the better of you, you'll be back on the streets a'good ol' Paris terrorizin' little French men, now is that what you want?"

            He looked up, eyes wide with a hint of fear. "I…No, no, I can't go back to that…I'm sorry. I'm sorry…I've allowed him to hurt so many people, I can't bear it again…tell Mr. Sawyer that I apologize. I believe I said awful things to him, terrible things."

            "…What exactly _did_ you say to 'im?" Skinner cocked his head, peering down at the disheveled man. 

Jekyll only shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to say them. I didn't…Tell him I apologize. Please."

            "Yeah, sure mate." He mumbled, scratching his chin. He was none too good at castigating others for their transgressions, usually he came off as rather snide, so for now he would keep quiet. "Just cool off." He turned, planning to find Sawyer as soon as possible.

A/N: Right, well, if you thought this story was going to be a simple romance, I guess it's sort of changing tides. There's also some off-the-wall Jekyll angst as well. But it ties in. I hope. :/


	3. Questioned Purpose

Questioned Purpose 

**_Author's Notes:_**_ Yes, well…it's coming along. Piece by piece. And on a side note, there's nothing wrong with an anonymous review, so long as you're not a gutless flamer. After all, my sister and all them don't know I write slash fics. Not because I'm ashamed, but because they have to be immature about it and I just don't want to deal with their crap. I have a right. So, in short, I empathize. ^^ And thank you, many people wouldn't even bother to review in similar situations.._

And one more thing, this fic will probably be changing to an R for violence and sex. Just Fa-rendly warning. On with the show. Again…

_…_

Tom leaned over the side, looking down beyond the edge of the Nautilus into the calm blue waters surrounding its hull. The wind played roughly through his hair, but not quite harsh enough to shake him of his thoughts. His normally placid face was wrought with a confusing tangle of emotions, causing him to droop his head down between his shoulders a little more with each passing moment. His hope was that no one would find him up here, he had the feeling that he would chew anyone out about now, and that was the last thing he wanted. He had already been in one argument today. But that was admittedly not his fault. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure how the fight had come about at all…

            When he had awakened this morning, rather late, he remembered deciding not to come in for a late breakfast and bother anyone. After getting cleaned up and dressed, not before tripping over various items of clothing that had been flung haphazardly to the floor the night before, he found himself again sitting at his desk. If ever he had something to write, surely it was now. And in fact he knew exactly what he wanted to say…but without the slightest inkling as to how to say it. So again he sat and stared and tried desperately to focus on those few perfect words that evaded him and his pen, but much like the last night, he was at a loss for those few words. And predictably, much like that same night, despite how hard he tried to concentrate, his thoughts easily drifted away from him. 

            As much as he hated to admit it, Skinner had done a damn good job of loosening his nerves. Maybe a little too good. He almost didn't care about ever writing anything down, or if he should ever come out of this room or if he should ever get down off his high at all. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the paper and thinking rather arbitrary thoughts until he decided that perhaps he should go out before someone came in looking for him. As he walked, he had come across Captain Nemo, who muttered a polite hello before hurrying off in the other direction with some form of papers in his hands, which he appeared to be studying vehemently. He also noticed a small statue tucked under his arm, which looked to be missing a piece. It was there that he met up with Ms. Harker and Dr. Jekyll. That was where the mayhem began… 

            "Good afternoon, Mr. Sawyer…" Ms. Harker eyed him as he waltzed in. "I must say, you look rather refreshed this morning."

            "Thank you, Ms. Harker." He said with a proud smile, nodding to Jekyll. "Guess that means I look how I feel."

            Ms. Harker smirked, patting his cheek affectionately as she walked on by and out the door. His gaze curiously followed her as she did so. 

            Jekyll was looking upon him stonily, standing near the table. Sawyer had noticed this as he poured himself a glass of water, and so as to avoid something awkward, he spoke. "How's it hangin', Doctor?" he queried amiably, guzzling it down. 

            "Just fine." He stated coldly, watching his every move with a strange glower. 

            "Mmhm…" Tom looked away, drinking another glass. 

            Jekyll had a disturbing air about him, mumbling idly under his breath and flashing his attention every now and then to the mirror that hung on the wall. 

            After a long while of agonizing silence, he cleared his throat. "Is somethin' wrong?"

            "I'm not sure…" he grumbled. "Do you _think_ something is wrong?"

            "I…" Tom tapped his fingers on the side of the glass. "Just thought you seemed a little off today, that's all."

            "And just how would you know what is 'off' for me?" Jekyll snapped. "Do you think you really know me that well, Sawyer?"

            "Hey, sorry if I caught you in a bad mood…" Tom backed off, setting down his glass.

            "And just what makes you think that _I _am the one who has a problem?" he said back.

            He couldn't help but notice how un-Jekyll he was acting all of a sudden. "Well…_I_ ain't got no complaints. Captain Nemo seemed fine to me and Ms. Harker didn't look any worse off. That pretty much just leaves yo-"

            "Mina…" Jekyll growled, cutting him off. "Just what would you know about her?" he advanced a step, a dangerous wildness in his eyes.

            "…" Tom hesitated, knitting his brow in confusion. "Why're you actin' like this? What did-"

            "I've seen the way you look at her!" he shouted, startling him. "The way you shamelessly flirt with her!"

            "Beggin' your pardon?" he glanced over his shoulder, seeing that no one was witnessing this conversation but the two of them. 

            "I know what you want." Jekyll rubbed his hand over his shoulder while trying to avoid the mirror. "It's obvious that you want her! You can't deny that!"

            Tom curled a lip at the accusation, offended. "What's with the allegations?"

            "Don't _lie_ to me!" he demanded. "You've wanted her…you've thought about having her!"

            "You're crazy." Tom said, raising his voice.

            "So then you dare contradict the notion? Are you so sure that I didn't_ see_ how you acted towards her those first few days? Following her around like some lovesick little pup…"

            "…Maybe in the beginning…In the beginning I might've had my eye on 'er, but I don't feel that way anymore." he insisted with a nod.

            "You're _lying_!" Jekyll scowled, digging his fingers down into his shoulder as his arm seemed to twitch involuntarily. "I saw it _just now_! Just now the way you were with her!"

            "Me?" Tom gaped. "Me? _She_ touched_ me_!"

            "Oh yes, yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love it if she would succumb to your perverse little persuasions! But that won't happen! You're a fool for trying to trick her!"

"You're not serious-"

"Do you have any idea how _easily_ she could dispose of you?" he thrust his hand out in front of him as though to somehow demonstrate. "How easily _any one of us_ could get rid of you if we so wished? What are you out of the ordinary but a pathetic little whelp who can't take care of himself?"

Tom's jaw tightened, anger rising within him from this unjustified abuse. "Look here, Jekyll, I don't know what's got your balls in a bear trap, but I think it's about time you shut the hell up and back the hell _off_!"

"Stop your whining!" he ordered. "You _useless_ peck! Taking up space…infecting the rest of the crew like a parasite! Damn you!"

Tom's eyes were wide, unbelieving of this sudden transformation. He was rambling, he wasn't making sense. 

"What good are you? What good?" he repeated, rage flaring in his face. 

"What are you tryin' t'tell me?" he narrowed his eyes, biting down on his lip.

Jekyll smiled an eerie and rather insane smile. "Stupid child…" he said, looking towards the mirror spontaneously as though something indescribably enthralling was taking place inside of it. "You should be dead by now!" he bellowed in a fit of anger, kicking the leg of the table and causing it to shake. "If you hadn't been so busy hiding behind Skinner and Quartermain, you _would_ be! You coward…bloody coward!"

Tom's chest burned as he took a step back, almost as if he had been hit. "What did you say…?"

"Oh yes, you know what I mean…" he jeered. "You can't take care of yourself. You're a burden to us all! You traded Quartermain's life for your own! You all but buried him…stabbed him in the back!"

Tom was shaking now, a flood of fury gushing through his every vein. "I _didn't_…" he defended, his voice faltering.

"You're a gutless coward…" he snapped again. 

"You bastard, what the hell do you know about it? You weren't there, you weren't…weren't…" he shook his head, trying to think of some way to deny the fact that if it weren't for him, Allan Quartermain would probably be alive. "I would've given my life for him, damn it!" 

"Then why _didn't_ you? _Why_?" he raged. 

"There…there was a knife at my throat…I couldn't…"

"No heroics, isn't that right, Sawyer? Do you think Quartermain's _happy_ about being six feet underneath the hell worthy heat of Africa's dirt? Do you think Skinner _likes_ those scars of his? Damned if you'll risk your skin for anyone else!"

"_No_!" he growled, hearing his cry echo throughout the hall. 

"So useless…you meek little gutter rat…"

"What about _you_?" Tom yelled, throwing his chest out defensively. "You can't control Hyde anymore, can you? You think _I'm_ the useless one? You're bein' dragged along, just a monkey on Hyde's back, ain't that right? Well I've got news for you, it was _him_ we needed, not you!"

            "You little…" Jekyll glared at him with a viscously menacing abhorrence. "I could pound you into nothing…"

            "No, _Hyde_ could pound me into nothin'! Show me what _you_ got, then see if you got the gall t'call _me_ a coward!" Tom spurned.

            "_Shut up_!" he screamed, gripping at his head. "Both of us will kill you…_both of us_!"

            Tom could feel his nails driving mercilessly into his palm. "You think you have it in ya, you son of a bitch?" he dared.

            "Don't_ push_ me!" Jeykll hissed, a dangerous look in his eyes that said 'I _will_' as he drove his fist into the table. 

            "Yeah, go to hell!" he spat venomously. "You and your half-wit gorilla!" 

            "Whoa, whoa, take it easy, Sawyer…" came a familiar voice from behind him. He barely registered the hand on his shoulder as he stared hatefully at the man across from him. This was ridiculous. He wasn't going to stand here and be degraded any longer. He'd just come down to get something to drink, not to be patronized. He grunted and threw the hand off his shoulder, pushing past Skinner and marching off out of the room. Anywhere was better than here at the moment.

            So far he'd been up here for nearly an hour, sorting out the things that were said to him and how much truth they held. He didn't know what kind of danger Quartermain was in, how could he have known? He was kidnapped at knife point for god's sake. Kidnapped…yeah. Maybe he _was_ a damn kid. He'd come all the way from America into this league to make something for himself, to escape his idiotic boyhood antics. Maybe he hadn't gotten away from anything. He was labeled as the incompetent troublemaker, just like always.

            He still should've done _something_. Given the guy an elbow or tried somehow to warn Quartermain. Instead he stood there, helpless and stupefied. He did nothing. He was responsible for the death of a man who had been nothing if not fatherly to him since the moment they met. He rubbed the back of his neck harshly, looking down at the still waters. Was he so self-absorbed? Was he so irresponsible? Was he such an encumbrance to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen that it had created a barrier of animosity between himself and the other members? Could the others really feel that way about him? And he hadn't seen it until now? It seemed so. He couldn't even look at them right now. Or himself, for that matter. To hell with his writings. What is it that he could document that would not turn out as a confession? That his negligence had killed a man… 

            He couldn't take this anymore. He would have to tell Nemo that he would not be accompanying the rest of the crew to their next escapade. He'd only end up getting someone else killed or maimed. But he would perhaps to that later…as vibrant and alive as he had felt that morning, every bit of it had been completely drained from him now. He went back below deck, heading to his room to go back to sleep. Maybe there would be peace in that, maybe he wouldn't feel so bad if he were unconscious to this disaster around him.


	4. Guilty Conscience

            **_Guilty Conscience_**

            _Author's Note: Sooo, yeah. Sorry it's been a while since I updated, I've just had junk to do. And then I totally forgot about it. But here it is. I can't really tell you how much I appriciate such kind reviews. My ego is throbbing, I'm going to have to lance it off before it explodes. ^^ …_

__

_WARNING: Once this story hits chapter six, this story will change to an R. I'm saying this again because I don't want people to be confused if it suddenly disappears. It's not disappearing it's just jumping over into the R section. _

…

Skinner gave a deep sigh as he trudged down the hallway, back to check Tom's room for the second time. He had been looking for what seemed like hours now, but his search had proved inconclusive. Not only that, but no one else had seen him either. He had hunted down both Nemo and Mina, and both had shrugged and suggested that he check his room, which he had obviously already done. After a while, he found himself stopping random crewmen in the corridors to ask if they had seen him lately. One of them had nervously shook his head and offered politely to show him where Sawyer's bedroom was, upon which Skinner blew up and proceeded to bite his head off, screaming some strand of irritated nonsense about how 'if I didn't know where his room was I would've asked you where his room was because I have the sense enough to look there first of all places and why _wouldn't _I know which room was his, don't you know who we are and just how the hell would _you_ know where his room is anyway?'… 

            Admittedly he had gotten a little carried away. The man positively ran from him with his tail between his legs. And he was still no closer to finding Sawyer. As he approached the room, he looked around to see the exact same sight that had greeted him an hour ago when he last looked. Finely made bed, clothes picked up off the floor and onto a chair, bathroom door opened just slightly. No sign of the kid anywhere. Exasperated, he turned and started on his way back to his own room. _What did you say to him, Jekyll?_ He asked himself tiredly. He was becoming increasingly worried, but he figured that Sawyer would have to come back on his own time. American boys and their tempers…

            'I believe I said awful things to him, terrible things..' he remembered Jekyll saying. Sawyer wasn't one to bruise easily, so the words must have indeed been cruel. Or maybe he was just being too stubborn about it. So where was he? Taking a few words that hard? And what about Dr. Jekyll? That little episode couldn't go on ignored, could it? …He would certainly have to talk to Captain Nemo about it. If he had an outburst like this once, it was liable to happen again, and he wasn't about to let this crew live in that kind of danger. Hyde had single handedly pulled this ship back together once, surely he could just as easily tear it apart. He was unstable. But undoubtedly the others would take pity on Jekyll, being the good man he was. They would more than likely resent Skinner for suggesting that they think twice about letting him stay, ever hopeful that a solution would just fall into their laps if they let it well enough alone.

            Not a moment's rest, if anyone bothered to ask him. They couldn't just leave the problem _alone_, could they? But it was likely that they would accuse him of being cold hearted, when his intentions were really the opposite. But why should he expect any different? Most people considered him to be some perverted voyeur, a dull miscreant who was pretty much only concerned with his own business and did what he saw fit. Perhaps he did like to spy on people now and then and maybe get a few laughs out of the process, but they apparently didn't understand why. He enjoyed the idea that he could see anyone at any time whenever he felt like it, check in on them from time to time. It never occurred to him that it was an invasion of privacy. Maybe he was somewhat spoiled, or took advantage of his abilities. After all, Quartermain hadn't much appriciated his elusive drop-ins. Well, no use mulling over things.

            He was just about to give up his search for now and enter his room when, much to his relief, he saw Sawyer plodding down the hall, gaze low and lost in thought, seemingly unaware that Skinner stood a mere few feet away. "There you are, Tomcat, I been lookin' all over for you." He said, loud enough to get his attention. 

            Tom looked up with what appeared to be shock and quickly averted his gaze, slowing his pace. "Mm." Was all he said.

            "What's on your mind?" he asked carefully, seeing the distraught look on his face.

            " 'What ain't on my mind, that's the million dollar question'." He said. Such a remark usually would have made Skinner at least chuckle, but his tone had been too dead and mirthless, as though he were merely repeating some rehearsed line he had no taste for.

            "…Sawyer, I kno-"

            "If you wanna talk to me about this afternoon, let me save you the trouble." He said sharply. "I _ain't _talkin' about it."  

            "Come on, don't get all fussy on me." Skinner said, a little irritated by this point as he tightened one of his gloves that had fallen loose.

            Tom gawked at him with what almost looked like hurt before looking away again and walking quickly past him to return to his room.

            "Sawyer-." Skinner called, confused. As Tom walked past him, he snatched him by the upper arm and turned him to face him. "Tom, I'm not lettin' you do that. Don't walk away from me when _I'm_ not your problem."

            He struggled only momentarily before relenting to his grasp and standing still, unable to bring himself to look at his face. He swallowed and took a deep breath. " 'm'sorry, okay? Just tired."

            "That ain't it and you know it. You can't fool me, kid, remember?" he studied his face for answers. "Tell me what it is."

            "Don't much feel like talkin'." He muttered. "Let go."

            "That's too bad, Sawyer." He stated roughly. "I just spent a good coupla hours goin' outta my mind tryin' t'find you just to have this conversation, so you owe it to me."

            He grimaced, trying one more time to weakly break his hold. 

            "Stop fightin' me." He pleaded. "Now I don't know what went on between you and Jekyll, but I know it couldn't be good t'tear you up like this."

            He looked up briefly before shaking his head. It broke Skinner a little to see emptiness where there had once been fire and luster in his bleak eyes. "I can handle myself just fine, and it ain't really any of your business. I don't need your help." He said coldly.

            "Not gonna stop you from gettin' it." Skinner lifted an eyebrow. "First off, where were you?"

            "So now what, Skinner, you too?" he said, lashing out with a wolfish glare. "You gonna chastise me for being some smart ass kid?"

            "It's not like that." He defended. 

            "Just what _were_ you thinkin' last night, huh?" Tom snorted. "I was an easy target? Too young and naïve to say no? Well you got what you wanted so-"

            "Stop it!" Skinner snapped, appalled. "Just what in the _hell_ makes you think that?"

            Tom seemed to flatten, bowing his head as his scowl disappeared. "God, I didn't mean that…"

            "…What is the _matter_ with you…?" 

            "Just let me go…please." 

            "No." he answered simply, holding his grip firm.

            "Stop tryin' t'save me." Tom said. "It won't do you any good."

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well it hasn't so far." He growled, shaking his head as he saw that he must offer an explanation. "Jekyll thinks that I was the one that killed Quartermain. That I stabbed the old man in the back and left him to rot back in Africa. That I was a burden to this crew. That I'm useless, can't care for myself. That I get people killed, that I'd do anything to save my own skin, that _I _shoulda been the one t'die. I guess it's what he was thinkin' all along, and I've been walkin' around blind to it. Happy?" He said these things void of emotion, staring blankly over Skinner's shoulder. 

            "Well I guess he don't know much, than. Besides, he told me t'apologize for 'im…" He raised a hand to touch the boy's face, startled when Tom turned his head away as though the hand would sting him with a faint whimper. He slowly lowered his hand with a disheartened compassion as Tom mumbled something incoherently. "What did you say?"

            "I said he's fucking _right_." He repeated loudly, eyes staring into Skinner's shaded sunglasses. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear? It was my fault, I've always known that. I guess I must've just thought I could pretend it never happened. Maybe I didn't kill him, but I didn't make a move to help him, and standing by and watching is just as bad." 

            "Sawyer…" he stammered, shocked.

            "I was hiding behind other people. All my goddamn life I've been tryin' to grow up and I haven't learned anything. Quartermain told me to keep my eyes open because he couldn't watch my ass all the time. That's what he died doin', watchin' my ass, because I didn't listen to him. I let him die. I _didn't_ _learn_ a _damn_ _thing_, and I let a man _die_ for it." He explained, both angered and ashamed.

            "No, that's not-"

            "Just like when I was a stupid kid. Expecting everyone else to look out for me. Like Quartermain. Like you." He trailed off.

            "Now just you listen here, what I did was _my _choice, _my_ decision for _me_ to make, and there ain't a minute in my mind I regret doin' it. You hear me?" He raised his hand again and hesitantly rubbed the back of it against his cheek. Tom looked down with an expression almost like the touch pained him. "Same as it was for Quartermain, understand?"

            "I should go home." He said simply. "I can't stay here any more. I'm no good to the crew, and I bet anything that they agree. And besides…I'm sure I've got things t'take care of back home. Things I left unfinished." his eyes misted over in a hazy state of apathy.

            "Sawyer, I'll tell you something," Skinner gently released his arm. "Watchin' yourself all the time, twenty-four seven is a damn near impossible job. People look out for each other when they care about each other, get it? Because I happen t'like watchin' your ass…"

            He looked up, shaking his head. "I ain't your responsibility…"

            "Yeah you are…" he ruffled his hair. "See I care 'bout you, mate. An' just 'cause I got the scars now t'prove it don't make me bitter none."

            "…You want me to forget about it? I couldn't take care of myself, damn it, I couldn't do it, and now Quartermain's payin' the price. It's the first time I've ever really been ashamed a'myself, and…and it's not even the first time I _should_." he whispered, staring down at the ground.  

            Skinner pulled his arms around him in a suffocating embrace, hard enough to ensure that he wouldn't be speaking without some definite effort. "Sawyer, don't you even remember the things ya did, you idiot? Without you, that whole crowd at the carnival in Venice woulda been blown t'smithereens, not to mention the rest of us. It's for that that I owe you m'life once. Your sharp shootin' that maniac before he made his get away, what about that? Quit pinin' over what ya couldn't do and look at what you _could_. At what you _did_."

            Tom was silent for a long while, his mind assumedly chewing over what he said.

            Skinner pulled him back and studied his face, scanning his tired eyes. "Okay?"

            "…I'm sorry." He said.

            "Nah, nah, none a'that, just cheer up. Smile, come on." He flicked him in the chin.

            Tom tried to give a halfhearted smirk, but failed and looked down again, shrugging. "You think I'm bein' stupid?"

            "Yeah. Sort of." He agreed, placing a hand behind Tom's head and forcing him into a sudden kiss. 

            This time Tom willingly accepted his grip, clutching back at him as though he were his only lifeline. Skinner blindly reached his hand behind him, opening the door to his room and pulling them both inside. Tom again found himself pinned to the bed, struggling to remove Skinner's jacket as he kicked off his shoes and numbly reacted to every other touch he felt crawling over his skin. Tom clenched his eyes shut for a moment as he felt a hand moving up his leg and caressing the pulsating muscles underneath, allowing himself to cry out as it reached the expanding mound between them. His lips fell open to meet Skinner's wandering tongue, cheeks flushing and breath heaving in his lungs. His eyes opened breifly and he looked up for a minute, causing him to stop. 

            Skinner stared down at him with his chest rising and falling at a rigid pace, confusion beginning to dawn on his features. "…What is it…?" 

            "Skinner…I-I can't do this…" he quickly pulled himself away and stood.

            "What?" Skinner pushed himself onto his knees, staring at him quizically. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"  

            "I'm sorry…" He turned away, walked out of the room with his head low and his shoes still lying somewhere on Skinner's floor. 

            "Tom-" he reached out a hand, but stopped himself, freezing in bewilderment as he heard the boy's footsteps echo down the hall. "…damn…" he stuttered before sitting back and burying his face into his hands in frustration. _…what is goin' on in that head of his?_


	5. Insoluable

****

**_Insoluable_**

****

**_Author's Note_**_: Sorry, sorry, I know, I know, long wait. I'm gonna try and pick up the pace here. I'm so glad that people are enjoying it. _

_And to the next point, the next chapter will be rated a BIG FAT R! Ra-hated a-haR._

_…_

_"Damn it, Tom, if you're gonna act like an idiot, people are gonna _think_ you're one!" _

_            "Do something useful! Don't just sit there like a frog on a rock!" _

_            "Sometimes I wonder if that kid's got any common sense at all."_

            "Eyes open, boy." … 

            Tom reflected anxiously as he rubbed his temples with his thumbs, trying to shake his mind out of the obnoxious turn table of regrets and memories. His head was a mess and he couldn't clear it. A glass of whiskey sat in front of him, but he had never been a heavy drinker, doubtful that it would have calmed his nerves down anyway. Nothing would calm his nerves, he was cracking and he knew it. His problems were big this time. Bigger than being a kid in a semi-broken home with no parents and a town that thought he was no good. Bigger than those stupid little 'adventures' he'd once shared with his long time friend Huck. He wasn't that little sandy-haired kid with a wide, innocent smile anymore, and he wasn't so sure he could escape with his skin like before. His experiences with the league had shown him that…

            He had _always_ assumed that he could take care of himself better than anyone. He had gotten himself into and right back out of more scraps than he cared to remember in his adolescent days. But now he was a man, as far as he knew. He would always have these damn boyish features and the blond hair that was worthy of a lovely lady, but in his heart and in his body, he knew he was a man… Yes, a man indeed. Now suddenly rendered fragile and vulnerable. While his stature grew, his abilities failed him. What happened to the days where he was once invincible? Where he could do anything? When did he lose that marvelous gift? Fifteen? Eighteen? Whenever the time had been, it was most certainly gone, and as were the pride and confidence that once accompanied it.

            In those days, he hadn't a moment to worry. He was always caught up in every second and never turning his head to see the darker side when the light was warmer anyway. Optimistic and hopeful, like a child should be…And as it stood, he was no longer a child. Did that mean for him to relinquish his optimism and give up that hope? 

            Love. He had thought over it many times. Some had dubbed him a hopeless romantic, and he wasn't sure they were so wrong. He still felt like that headstrong, love-starved kid from an unheard of and forgotten god-forsaken back country of the young U.S. He would flash a little smile to the pretty girls as he walked by, laughing inwardly as they giggled and swooned over the rugged and painfully unattainable Tom Sawyer. Not anymore. He had no one fussing over him, no one looking up to him. He was on his own, and it made him realize that he hadn't made much of or for himself. Not enough, anyway.

            How is it that he could have come half way around the world as a hero and ended up a down-trodden nothing? Perhaps he was a hero only in his own mind. That childish arrogance that had followed him for so long, that smug attitude and flared ego. None of that was him anymore. So who was he? He knew Tom Sawyer the boy, everyone knew him. But who was Tom Sawyer the man? What did he have now but audacious anecdotes and foolish tales? People had said scornfully that he would amount to nothing, and now it appeared they may have gotten their wish.

            In his early days, he supposed, he _had_ relied on people a little to help him out of a bad situation…Maybe that was his downfall. He could almost hear a mocking laughter behind his ear. He _had_ become a useless nobody, he couldn't believe it, but it was true. Just what everyone had been telling him. 

_Look how pathetic you are._ He said to himself as he folded his arms, leaning his head back and narrowly missing tipping his chair over. _Held up cryin' in your room just like the kid you're tryin' t'tell yourself you're not._

He felt awful, all and around. He was frustrated in every sense. Emotionally from the whirl of battling anxieties in his head. Physically from not sleeping or eating; it was already almost morning again. And truth be told, sexually from the night before. There was still a sore stiffness inbetween his legs that had yet to be taken care of. He rubbed his forehead with a lazy hand and gave a breathy sigh. He hadn't exactly excused himself politely last night, and he could tell he had probably crawled over to Skinner's bad side on that one. But then again, he hadn't said anything about it. He hadn't stopped by this way to ask what was wrong, which he was secretly grateful for. Why should Skinner care anyway? It wasn't as though it was his business. Besides, he had to figure out these problems on his own.

A stupid kid. A damn stupid kid_. Wasn't Skinner just telling you last night that he _did_ care?_ He reminded himself. _People say all kinds of things when they're horny…_The more bitter half of him reasoned. After all, when had they actually engaged in conversation that wasn't aimed at the end result of sex? Skinner was probably angry with him now.

Or he could be worried. Giving him his space.

Not likely. He was probably out hitting on Mina by now, bored with the going-ons of a disturbed young boy who couldn't seem to get his head on straight.

He felt like a fool. He _was_ a fool. He was so confused…And for the first time since he was five years old, he didn't try to fight the tears filling in his eyes.

            …

            "You don't understand…" Jekyll explained, leaning his head against the frame of the window pane. "It's not that he takes over my personality, it's that…well it's more like little parts of him are leaking into me."

            Captain Nemo nodded as he poured himself a small cup of hot water, thinking for a while before taking it to his lips. 

            "My anger, for instance." Jeykll turned around and held out his hands in exasperation. "I never used to get angry like this before. Perhaps I could feel Hyde's anger, and perhaps I could even be tempted to act on it. But…but this anger is my own. When I was talking with Mr. Sawyer, it was _me _he was insulting…and _I _was angry. Not Hyde." He swallowed the great lump in his throat and sighed.

            "Don't you think that it could be a sign of regression?" Nemo suggested, setting his cup down. "Perhaps the effects of your syrum are wearing down. Maybe Hyde is assimilating back into you. That you're becoming one again?"

            "A brilliant deduction. However I find that highly unlikely." He said with a hollow chortle. "When I created that syrum…when I created Hyde, I didn't create and addition to myself, Captain. I created a _new life_. Something—some_one_ entirely different from that which was myself."  

            "I don't think I quite see how that can be." Nemo said as he straightened out the cuffs of his sleeves and placed his hands behind his back. 

            "When I make the transformation, I leave Hyde in complete control. He makes decisions that I have nothing to do with. He thinks for himself, he has opinions and thoughts and completely separate ideals. I may have created him, but he is not a part of me. He's a…a joint owner of my existence, you could say." Jekyll rubbed the side of his face tiredly. 

            "Then how is it he can be influencing you in this way?"

            "I don't know, I don't know." He dropped down into a wooden chair, leaning his head against his hand, which rested upon the armrest. "I just have to find a way to stop it. I was going to hurt Tom Sawyer today, how could I live with myself if I did something like that? How could anyone else live with me?"

            Nemo walked to the window, which gave him a very uninteresting view of the dark ocean. "I will say this, my friend," He began. "A man who is clever enough to conjure an entire other being out of nothing surely is clever enough that he can find a solution to it. Knowing naught of the circumstances under which you made your discoveries, I cannot help you further. This concept you present me with is new."

            "Yes, it is." He responded bitterly. "Mr. Skinner was correct in that this is my responsibility alone. Only I can save myself…but how?"

            "Do you really think that you will do something you will regret so much?" the captain turned his head.

            "Of course I do." He threw up one hand and let it land in his lap. "Nemo, I should tell you something else…"

            "Yes?"

            "I…I think I may be in love with her." He lowered his head in what almost looked like shame.

            It took Nemo only a moment to comprehend the situation, even with a subject as vague as 'her'. "There should be no uncertainty in these matters." He offered, stepping forward and reaching out to place a hand on Jekyll's shoulder. "Do you love the woman?"

            "I would not have even suggested the notion if I didn't." he said, deafeated. "That is the predicament, however. I am in love with her. Hyde is not." He rubbed his temples irritably. "I know that I can never act upon my feelings for her. I couldn't put her in that kind of danger. I don't trust Hyde. I could do something positively mad. This morning was only confirmation."

            "Then it appears your mind is made up." Nemo pointed out gravely. 

            "Perhaps, but…" he looked up at the wise Indian captain, begging for answers. "What do _you _think I should do?"

            "You know what is right." He said promptly. "You cannot ask her to love you when you are not yourself. You must first mend your troubles before looking for new ones."

            "But what if I can't do it…?" he closed his eyes and put his head down. 

            "I'm afriad you know the answer to that as well. And that is why you _must_." Captain Nemo patted him gruffly once more on the shoulder before turning to walk out the door. "You'll excuse me, Mr. Jekyll, but I have affairs I must attend to."

            With a polite nod, Jeykll watched the man walk out the large double doors and turn swiftly down the corridor. "As have I…" he sighed, pushing the chair back and standing. With one glance and sneer to the reflection in the window, he walked slowly out the door and back to his room.


	6. Not Just Fun and Games

Not Just Fun and Games 

**_Author's Note:_**_ Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Sorry. I laugh. Blarg, this chapter kind of irritates me. It could have been better, had it a better author. *Holds up a finger* But there is yet room to improve! And yes, this chapter is rated R. Why? Well, find out._

            …

            The day had been, though it seemed a great understatement, uneventful. Skinner lay on his bed, one hand covering his face and the other resting behind his head as he griped mentally about the dullness of the morning. Captain Nemo had been busy, and had not attented breakfast or lunch, which was not unusual. Dr. Jekyll had also mysteriously vanished. Mina Harker was at a loss for what to do, confused as to why all of the league members were suddenly induced into such a reclusive state. She had gone to see Mr. Jekyll, who had painfully declined her company, and Tom had not answered the knock at his door. Skinner himself had only momentarily stopped by the main dining hall to see if anyone was up and about, which had been where he ran into the ship's resident vampiress.

            "Mr. Skinner." She had said, seemingly disappointed that it had been him she encountered.

            "That'd be me." He answered dryly, lost in a haze of personal thoughts.

            "I must say that you're about the only living soul I've seen this morning. Has the ship gone and died without my knowing?" she reclined back in her chair at the table, waiting for what she was sure would be a sarcastic jab from him.

            "Maybe." Was all he chose to say, still keeping his qualms to himself.

            Furrowing her brow slightly, she sat up straight and cocked her head. "Well now I do know that something is wrong. Skinner, not making a joke? Hm."

            "Maybe I just ain't in a jokin' mood." He remarked coldly, admittedly rather uncharateristic. 

            Mina shrugged, at a loss for what could possibly be wrong with the entire league that would make them behave as such. "Not even Jekyll would speak with me today. And usually he's so charming. Agent Sawyer wouldn't even come out from his bedroom, so I know there must be something I'm missing."

            "Did you ever think that maybe he just has his own troubles?" Skinner had scowled. "Where in the contract did it ever say we had to share all our damn problems?" Funny he should talk…any problem he ever had could be solved with a drink. And if it couldn't, it could be solved by a couple of them. But not this one.

            "Well I'm sorry." She quipped crossly. "I wasn't aware that my concern was such a nuisance."

            Skinner had already tuned her out. Coming out here only made him realize that, as much as they tortured him, he didn't want to be disturbed from his agonizing thoughts. He thought he may have heard her calling out to him in confusion as he walked back to his room, but he wasn't sure. And now, here he was again. _He's hurting. Why won't you just go and talk to him?_ Part of him reasoned. _What if he's hurting because of me? I saw the way he looked at me last night. I must've…set him off…_

            He groaned for perhaps the thousandth time and knocked his head against the headboard. By all means, he most likely should have gone to see him. But there was a strange guilt in the back of his mind that prevented him from doing so. He had spent hours just trying to make out the look on Tom's face as he had left the room. Was it shame? Was it pain? 'I can't do this', those had been his words. Couldn't do what? The act altogether or just with Skinner? Or…was it something else? But what else? He had never been more scattered in his life. 

            What if Tom resented him? That was his biggest fear. He swallowed hard as he thought about the words that he had exchanged that day. 'Just what _were_ you thinkin' last night, huh? I was an easy target? Too young and naïve to say no? Well you got what you wanted…' That couldn't have actually been the case…Yes, he had desired Tom. And that night, he wanted to take the kid's mind off of all the shit that he'd had to face as of late. …But did that make it right? Well surely Tom could've protested if he had wanted to. Couldn't he?

            Tom had been in a vulnerable position. He was confused. He was mourning. He was young. And when he thought about it, there were small instances when he _had_ protested. But Skinner had been too busy with his own motives to even see it. He'd had his hand over the kid's mouth, how would he have even known? Could that look last night have been betrayal? Tom just realizing that he had been…taken advantage of? _Oh God…please don't tell me I _forced_ him…_he thought dejectedly. _Don't tell me I was selfish enough to do something like that to him. That I didn't see what kind of state he was in. How the hell could he _not _feel used? I practically attacked him…fucked him and then left him_…

            He craned his head back, trying not to think of the pain he had seen in Tom's eyes. What had he done? He had screwed up the kid's life even more, that's what. Just like he'd done in the good old days…the days when women could still see his face and blushed when they saw him wink. Where other men of his like would perk with interest when he walked into a room. The days when he took them one by one like shots of liquor and never looked back to see them crushed when he shrugged them off as he would a cold hand on his shoulder. But for Christ's sake, he really _cared_ about that little blond firecracker. That fact made it much worse. It made him feel sick.

            "Hey…" came a soft voice from his doorway. Skinner peered out from his hand to see Tom leaning against the doorframe with a sheepish, wide-eyed look. His strong arms were crossed tightly across his chest as he let out a breath.

            "Uh…Hey…" he said lamely, cursing himself as he sat up. 

            There was a long period of strange silence as they both turned away from eachother. Tom took in a trembling breath, figuring that he'd better say something before the conversation went bad on him.

            "Skinner…" he started, closing his eyes and leaning his head down. "Look, about last night…"

            "Tom, I didn't meant to push you into it…" satisfied with the ice having been broken, he helplessly held up his hands as if they held his explanation. 

            "No, it's okay…" he shook his head. "I was just…thinking about last night and—well I'm really…sorry…"

            Skinner looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off.

            "I-I guess what I'm trying to say is that I…probably…" he offered a stressed sigh and continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "Skinner, did you really mean it when you said-"

            "I wouldn'ta said it if I didn't mean it." He answered immediately, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm not usually the mushy type, in case you couldn't tell."

            "Hm…" he half-smiled and shifted the weight onto his other foot. 

            "…Why did you leave?" Skinner said, unable to hold back that question that had been haunting him any longer. 

            Tom snorted and kept his jesting smirk. "Gee, because I like to keep you in suspense…" he wouldn't bring his gaze to meet the man across from him, however.

            "Jesus, Tom, out of all the crazy things…" he responded shortly. "I _thought_ that you were having a nervous breakdown."

            "Well I…well you're sort of…not far off. I'm sorry, I shouldn't've walked out." He apologized. "It's my fault…"

            "What do you mean?"

            Pausing for a while as though preparing himself for a great pain, he eventually came to an answer. "Don't take this the wrong way…okay?" he breathed nervously. "I…I just thought that you…didn't mean the things you said." He had a guilty expression on his face that he tried to mask by looking away. "It's an awful thing t'think, but I thought that you were just…"

            "You _did_ think I was using you…" he shut his eyes and bowed his head.

            Tom flinched, still looking down. "I'm sorry…but…for a minute, I did. It wasn't a rational thought, okay? It was a spur a'the minute thing. I panicked, I-I didn't really mean to…ah, fuck." He heaved another gruff sigh and shook his head, unable to come up with the right words. "I was…looking for any reason to put myself down, deny myself what I could. Maybe I could protect myself if I shut the world out…you know…stupid stuff. I don't…know if I'm making sense here…What I mean is…uh…" He started, hoping his strained words could possibly convey an apology. "I mean I was an idiot. You…you risked your life for me. And I was dumb enough to think you didn't care. I was too caught up in myself. Kickin' myself in the behind and feelin' sorry for myself. And…I'm sorry."

            "…What did you mean by, 'I can't do this'?" he asked cautiously, still confused by this erratic behavior.

            "That I…couldn't…" he ran a hand over his face tiredly. "Let myself…"

            "…Let yourself…?" Skinner anxiously kneaded his fingers into the bed sheets. "What?"

            "You know." He growled, more at himself. "Let myself…go. I wasn't about to let someone do me another favor. Lot's of people have done favors for me…look where they're at now."

            "You think I was doin' it as a favor?" he gawked at Tom with a concealed offendedness. 

            "No-I don't know…" he looked up sincerely, his eyes dark with the same sort of shame Skinner had seen in them before. "I wasn't gonna let someone try and save me again…. I already told you: I'm an idiot." 

Skinner let out a long breath of relief, laughing and shaking his head. "It's okay, mate…Just get over here already…"

            Tom obeyed instantaneously, stepping in and shutting the door behind him before he shoved Skinner down onto the bed and stradled him. Shocked, the pinned man stammered for a minute and blinked a few times. "Whoa-ho, hey, a little overly enthusiastic to make-up, huh?"

            "Yeah…" he gripped Skinner's hand and pulled off the glove roughly, reaching for the other. 

            "Hey, come on, serious-" he gently worked his hand out of Tom's grasp. "Seriously, we don't have to do this now... You don't gotta prove anything t'me."

            "That don't sound like the Skinner I know. Just fuck me, damn it, I'm horny as hell." He muttered, leaning down and finding his partner's lips. 

            Ignoring the fact he found it ridiculous --being so extremely aroused by such a simple statement, that is--, Skinner spread his legs out and let Tom's form fall between them. "Well yes sir…" he joked bewteen hard kisses, gracefully removing Tom's belt in a single flick of the wrist. Refusing to let go of his usually dominent hold, however, Skinner tackled Tom onto his back and traded positions. 

            "Hey." The blond snapped with a childish pout as he struggled beneath him. "Knock it off."

            "I don't think so." He playfully pinned him by the shoulders and buried his face into the crook of Tom's neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbling on the sensitave skin. He could feel the intensity of Tom's erection as he ground his hips against his own, and the idea made his own pants seem much too close for comfort. "Shit, you weren't kiddin'…" he purred in a tone weighted down with lust as he let his fingers travel down and pull at the edges of his lover's loosened pants. 

            Tom carelessly emmited a low-throated moan, bending his knees slightly as Skinner's curious hand grazed the length of his newly exposed organ. He impatiently hooked three fingers into the rim of Skinner's pants in preperation for reciprocation, his eyes begging to be relieved of the unbearable tension in his body. "Thought I taught you some patience last time…" Skinner scolded, contirdicting himself as he took Tom's hand and pushed it further down into his pants. 

            Perspiration began to grow on Skinner's brow as he felt the boy's hand gently clutch and slowly pump back and forth, apparently just as eager to give out a quick release as he was to receive one. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to let him finish him off, and he eventually stilled Tom's warm hand and pulled it away. Tom at last surrendered and let Skinner do as he saw fit, relaxing back on the bed and pretending that he couldn't feel his hardened member pressing up against his stomach. "That's more like it." Skinner said with a smirk, smothering him in another series of chaste kisses. 

            Tom tried to keep up, but Skinner had a definate upper hand when it came to experience and efficiency. He threaded his fingers through Tom's light hair and stroked the lines of his chest and throat with the other hand, expertly drawing out fevered gasps and sighs as he did so. He thrust himself against the young man beneath him in a slow and rythmic fashion, each touch and caress a subconscious atonement for any way he thought he may have wronged him before. Every miscontrued feeling, every sarcastic word that came off a little too harsh, every wrong thing he'd said at the right time and every right thing he'd said at the wrong. He reveled in the fact that none of it mattered now, not while he still had him in his arms, not while Tom still possessed that need for his pleasing touches. 

            Where their last session had been relatively silent, the current one rang out loud enough to alert anyone about the halls or in the adjacent rooms exactly what they were doing and just how hard they were doing it. Tom lost himself in the euphoria of Skinner's body around him, penatrating through him and holding him tenderly in the most intimate of embraces, murmuring clips and phrases he couldn't decipher against his burning skin. Skinner was equally entranced, breathing kisses against his chin and jawline as his mouth fell open and his head leaned back. _Could he really want it like this? The way I do…?_ Skinner thought. One look into those hazy and misted eyes and it was obvious. Clearly he did.

            "Nng…" Tom whimpered as he clenched his eyes shut, feeling the sweet beginning of his climax growing within him. It was a pleasure so close to pain that it made his eyes water and his body shake, letting a cry slip from him that was comparable only to perhaps severe agony. Skinner hushed him with another calming kiss, not only to keep Tom from screaming, but to keep himself from doing the same when he at last felt the waves of his own release tearing down upon him. A tremor wracked his body as he bowed his head back into Tom's shoulder, allowing him to continue his heavy cries. 

            It was some time before Skinner opened his eyes and was able to find his thoughts again, the ripples of enormous shock still flowing through his veins. He watched Tom's chest fall deeply and rise rather weakly, hypnotized by the drops of sweat that trickled down the bridge of his nose and throat. "…Hm…" he said with a smile, running a hand through Tom's moistened hair. 

            Tom reached up to touch the hand that was now brushing against the side of his face. He then sighed and shifted his position. His eyes remained half-closed and blurry as his mind swam in a river of thoughtless ambiguity. He lay quiet and serene for the longest while, staring up into nowhere and swallowing the gasps of air that rolled in and out of his lungs unconsciously. It could have been hours and it could have been more, not that it would have made a difference, before his world slowly drifted back to him. His sense of reality and self was returning as he grazed his hand against another that was now resting on his cheek and he remembered his circumstances. Languidly shifting his shoulders, he cleared his throat slightly and opened his mouth. "…You…want me to go?" he shrugged in a husky whisper.

            Skinner looked down and swallowed, trying not to let that statement hurt as much as it did. "No." he answered smoothly, sliding to the young man's side and encircling his arms around his waist and chest from behind. "Not particularly…"

            "Mm…" Tom slurred in a mellow tone, still on an oblivious high that was now enstilled by the arms trapping him tightly close to the man that was absently kissing his shoulder. 

            "You're welcome here anytime…" he added affectionately. But whether he meant in his room, in his bed, or in his arms was left to be guessed.   


	7. With That in Mind

_With That in Mind…_

            _A/N: Sorry this is taking so much time. Tis a rather short chapter. To all a goodnight!_

Thirteen. That was the number of times he'd heard that knock on his door. Mina was nothing if not persistant. "I know you're in there, Jekyll, you can open the door or I can break it down." A strong feminine voice permeated through the wood.

            Dr. Jekyll shook his head and stood, straightening out his shirt. He doubted that she was bluffing, and telling her that he wanted not to be disturbed was probably easier than living here with his door in splinters. Tiredly fumbling with the lock and chain on his door frame, he opened the door with a polite and slightly apologetic bow. "Good evening, Ms. Harker." He said with a weak smile. "Forgive me, I must have dozed off for a moment or two."

            "You must have dropped off the planet if you honestly didn't hear my shouting." She stated, looking around. "Not to mention the commotion that was going on a moment ago. Judging by that, I'd say either someone was being murdered or they were certainly having a good time."

            "I see." He nodded, rubbing his temples.

            Mina looked upon him with sympathy. "You know Jekyll, all manners aside, I must say that you look positively awful."

            "Yes, I'm not exactly feeling well." He said, only really telling half a lie. 

            "Really? Well I'm sure this ship has at least a rudimentary medical bay. I can accompany you there, if you'd like." She offered kindly.

            "There's no need. I think I just need to lie down for a while…" he glanced behind him at his still made bed. "I don't mean to be rude, but if you would excuse me, Ms. Harker."

            "If there's something wrong…" she started, bringing her gaze to meet his. 

            Jekyll froze for a minute or two like a frightened rabbit, baffled by her sudden worriedness. It was a side he had only been chanced to see a few times.  

            "Can I come in, or am I interupting something?" she queried after a long while of buzzing silence. 

            Jekyll gritted his teeth. He wanted nothing more to say yes to that. To talk to her. To explain the situation. But he could not…

            _'Come on, Henry…' _Rage flared in his eyes as he heard Hyde's voice in the back of his mind. _'Invite the lady in for a drink. What's the harm in that?'_

            Jekyll tried desperately to surpress his anger as he shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Ms. Harker. I'm sorry, but I can not."

            She looked crushed at that statement, and he couldn't bear the sight of it. "I see…" she accepeted his rejection, looking down and keeping a stern face. 

            "I'm really very sorry…" he said sincerely. "I'll…I'll speak with you later, if you'd like. I-I'm just wary as to whether or not this illness is contagious, you see…"

            _'You're a terrible liar, Henry.'_ Hyde growled callously.

            "If that's what you think is best, I won't disturb you." Mina said with a nod, lifting her head with a more confident gaze. "But be warned. I will be back tomorrow, and if you aren't feeling any better, you _will _come with me to the medical bay. Is that clear, Mr. Jekyll?"  

            Jekyll smiled slightly, touched by her concern. "…Yes, of course. I would be honored." 

            "Well," she smiled slyly as she took a step back. "I suppose I should say goodnight then."

            "Oh, yes…Good night, Ms. Harker." He nodded hurriedly.

            "Goodnight, Henry." She replied, turning down the hall. "And remember, I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning. That's a promise."

            "I think I should look forward to it." He said, offering a final wave before he shut the door and enveloped himself back into the darkness of his room. 

            _'You coward.'_ Hyde snickered from somewhere in the deepest regions of his head. _'Can't even face up to a woman, can you?'_

            "What do you care?" he stared into the mirror, seeing the ghastly reflection of the beast he had created. "It's my business, not yours."

            _'Everything you do is my business.'_ He informed factually. _'When you share a mind, you share all of its secrets.'_

            "We _don't_ share a mind." Jekyll sneered, sitting on his bed.

            _'But we do share a body…And I think you've been forgetting to keep your end of this bargain lately.'_

            "What 'bargain'?" he looked up, eyes narrowing in irritation. 

            _'I've been stuck in your idiot head for weeks!'_ he snarled, the reflection in the mirror turning to a hideous scowl. _'I want out, Henry.'_

            "I never made that deal, Hyde." He said coldly, sitting up straight. 

            _'You made that deal when you created me.'_ Hyde growled, gritting his teeth. _'I have right!'_

            "You have no right. This is my life, do you understand that? Damned if I'll let you come in here and tear it down."

            _'So that's it, is it?'_ Hyde fumed, holding up a hand that was twisted in anger. _'Use me when you want and then lock me away like some caged animal? Is that what kind of man you are?'_

            Jekyll paused, looking away. "…You know that's not what it is. The league needed our help, was that not reason enough for you to just once do something selfless?"

            _'The league needed_ my _help.'_ He clarified stubbornly. 

            "Yes, well we thought we needed Mr. Gray as well, and you're well aware of what happened then." Jekyll retorted, shocking himself by the demeanor in his voice. It wasn't like him to say such things…

            He could sense Hyde's impending anger, but it instead turned into a strange satisfaction. _'Oh, not yourself tonight, Henry?'_ he chuckled. 

            "It has been _years_ since I have 'been myself'." He reminded, putting his face in his hands. "And it seems so much longer."

            _'Well boo-hoo.'_ He mocked carelessly. _'How do you think _I_ feel? Do you think I like watching you live on the other side while I'm stuck up here?'_ the reflection pointed to his head.

            "Every time I let you out, you do something terrible." Jekyll defended.

            _'Oh yes, terrible.'_ He snorted back sarcastically. _'Like saving the lives of hundreds. What a damn shame.'_

            "Don't pretend that heroism had anything to do with it." Jekyll stood and poured himself a drink with a disgusted expression. "You knew that this ship would sink with you in it, that's why you did it."

            _'At least I had a purpose!'_ he said, shifting subjects again. _'What good are _you_? It's just like that twitty little cowboy said.'_

            "Shut up, you leave Agent Sawyer out of this." Jekyll took a heavy gulp of his scotch. 

            _'And you had the nerve to accuse_ him _of being useless? Of course, I wouldn't doubt that he is. But not as useless as you, 'doctor', _not_ as _useless_ as _you_.  Such a paradox, Henry. Ha!'_

            "Don't drag others into this, you know damn well this is between you and I!" he slammed the cup down, sending a stream splashing over the side.

            _'No it isn't.'_ Hyde insisted. _'You only wish that were the case. Trying to pawn off your troubles onto me. Why is it that whenever you have a problem, _I'm_ the one who gets blamed for it?… How pathetic you are…you sit idly by and watched the little squirt flirt with Mina without so much as batting an eye.'_

            Jekyll clenched his fist and growled under his breath. "Stop it. He's doing no such thing. You won't make me jealous again, Hyde!"

            _'And the way she looks at him. Oh that's the kicker, isn't it? It's love. I can see it.'_

            "You're a fool!" he snarled back. "As if _you_ would know what love looks like. It isn't love. No more than it's love when Skinner flirts with her."

            _'Maybe it is. Maybe she's in it with the boy and taking that invisible chap on the side.'_ Hyde said, apparently amused with himself.

            "Shut up!" Jekyll ordered again, the same insidious rage flaring up in his throat. "Don't you ever talk about her that way!"

            _'She's a heartless killer, Henry!'_ he yelled with a grin. _'What makes you think she's any more considerate when it comes to love?'_

            "You want me to smash those elixers, Hyde? Is that what you want? To never be free?" he screamed, glancing towards the said box.

            _'Don't make me laugh.'_

            "I'll do it if it would mean I would be rid of you!" he threatened, pointing to the table upon which it rested.

            _'I'm only trying to _help_ you!'_ he snarled back, baring his teeth in the mirror. '_I see you falling into a void, Henry! I see the people around you attacking you, betraying you, laughing behind your back, laughing at you! At me! At us! And you don't even see it, you pathetic toad! And you have the audacity to call_ me _a fool?_ You're _the fool, Henry!'_

            "You're dillusional!"

            _'Am I? I saw the look you had on when Mina touched that welp's face! I saw the rage in your eyes when you confronted him! That wasn't me, Henry, it was_ you! _It was_ you _who thought that he was making his move on her, not me!_ _It was_ you _who hated him, not me! It was_ you _who threatened to kill him, not me! It was all_ you, _what did_ I _have to do with it?'_

            "I didn't mean any of it!" 

            _'Then why did you say it?'_

            "I-I was-"

            _'You knew that he was stabbing you in the back! You were angry that he was denying it!'_

            "No!"

            _'I'm your only friend, Henry! The only one you can trust! If you want her, you have to make it happen! Push the other morons aside and take her! Or are you too weak?'_

            "You don't know what you're talking about!"

            _'Of_ course _you're too weak! You've _always _been too weak! You've always_ needed _me! Just like before, and just like now! You need me to take over! You need me to take her for you! For_ us_!'_

            "AHHH!" Jekyll shrieked, gripping his glass and heaving it at the mirror with all the force me had. Glass hit glass with a deafening shatter, spraying a mist of crumbled shards onto the soft carpet and disappearing like melted snowflakes. Jekyll collapsed on his bed with a shudder, left alone and silent in his dark room.


	8. Dillemma Revealed

_Dillemma Revealed_

_Author's Note: Mwrarhaha. I be back, ye scurvy dogs. Another chapter of the story, and hopefully rather close to the end, being as otherwise it…you know, would've led to nowhere…_

_Oh, and, as a forewarning, try not to step in the mush on your way down_.

…

"Hey-" Tom growled, trying to keep his tone serious, but failing miserably. "Hey, come on, cut it out already!" 

            "What else'm I gonna do?" Skinner mumbled as he continued to try and pull him away from the edge of the bed and kiss him.

            Tom was a little aggravated, still trying to work his shoe onto his left foot. "You could try gettin' dressed."

            "Always an option. One I rarely take, however." He said defiantly as Tom wriggled out of his grasp. 

            "You've got a one track mind."

            "Lucky for you." He replied. 

            "Yeah, yeah. Hey, have you seen my other shoe?"

            "Can't say I have." Skinner lied with a grin as he glanced down at the tip of Tom's discarded shoe sticking out from under the bed. 

            "Damn. Always losin' things…" he began to tie the shoe he had actually managed to salvage from the wreckage of their clothes and accessories scattered about the room.

            Skinner snuck forward and grabbed him from under the arms, dragging him backwards into his lap. "Less clothes the better."

            "Arg." He said in protest, reaching up blindly to swipe at him.

            "Rrg." Skinner snatched his hand and blocked it as he leaned down and kissed him roughly.

            "Okay, okay," Tom cried as he pushed him off. "Don't get me all worked up again."

            "So ruin all my fun." He said disappointedly. "Hm…you're just so damn sexy when your trying to be serious."

            Tom blushed and sat up, still looking around for his right shoe. 

            "Oh, are you turnin' red?" Skinner laughed.

            "Shut up." He grumbled, cheeks flushing harder. "Ah." He stood, and, much to Skinner's dismay, retrieved his lost shoe. Realizing that Skinner must have seen it, he held it up to him with a raised eyebrow. "Haven't seen it, huh?"

            He chuckled nervously and rubbed a hand behind his head. "Sort of hopin' you wouldn't find that."

            "Whatever." He smiled and shook his head, trying to balance himself on one foot as he pulled the shoe onto the other. 

            "Gee, I wish I knew where that belt of yours went to…" Skinner sighed dramatically.

            "Skinner, gimme a break." He still struggled on one foot as he tied his shoe, hesitant to sit down and risk being fawned upon again.

            "Fine." He grumped, pulling out the said belt from under the covers and holding it out.

            "Thank you." He took it and quickly fastened it through his pants as he chucked a pair of pants onto the bed. "Here. See if you can manage a pair a'these for a while."

            Skinner begrudgingly did as he was told, pulling them on and fastening them. "Where's my shirt?"

            "Floor." Tom answered casually. 

            "Mm." He looked around and scooped a crumpled shirt off the floor in front of the bed. "This ain't mine."

            "Huh?" Tom looked over, then looked down. "Oh…uh, that's mine…"

            "Great, so where's mine?"

            "…on me." He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what kind of reaction that was garaunteed to invoke.

            Skinner laughed again, walking over. "Okay, don't try an' tell me that was an accident."

            "It _was_."

            "I'd be willing to frisk you for it." He reached out his hands and touched Tom's sides with the tips of his fingers.

            "I bet you would." He backed away, taking his own shirt in his hand and stripping the other off, tossing it to him. 

            Skinner relented from his sexual prowl and put the shirt on, watching Tom do the same before he headed for the door.

            "Hold up, Tom, where's my belt?"

            "It's right over…" Tom stopped and looked down at the belt around his own waist. "…Shit…" 

              "I thought it only fair to tell you. It is not that I don't respect Mr. Jekyll's privacy. Far from it." Nemo sighed, setting his glass on the dining table.

            "Oh yes, I know." Mina nodded, still looking down at the white hankerchief she wrung tightly in her hands. "It's just that…Well I suppose it comes as a bit of a surprise, that's all."

            "But that isn't all." Nemo continued. "The only reason I tell you that he has these feelings for you, because otherwise I condiser it his business alone to tell you, is considering the problems he is having. Problems that could become problems for the entire crew."

            She lifted her head. "What is it, Nemo? What's wrong with him?"

            "I can't tell you the specifics of the case." He admitted, folding his arms. "Because I do not know them. And although what I do know is somewhat sparing, it is clear what it is that is bothering him."

            "…Is it Hyde?" she guessed.

            "Yes." He answered simply. "It is something of that nature."

            "Hm." She said in thought, already thinking of any way a problem could arise. "Did he tell you that?"

            "He came to me in his desperation after that little disagreement he had with Agent Sawyer yesterday morning. He had threatened to kill the boy. Needless to say, it weighed heavy on his conscious." He recalled.

            "He did what?" her eyes widened. "Whatever did Sawyer do?"

            "It's difficult to explain." Nemo nodded to a servant who set down a tray of tea and crackers. "He tells me that Hyde is influencing him to do things that he would never do. Trying ot convince him that Mr. Sawyer had affections for you."

            "I see…" she said, although now even more confused. "…Surely he should be used to Hyde's opinions by now. How could he have taken so much heart into what he had to say?"

            "That is the part I do not fully understand myself." He said, pushing his glass of water aside in favor of the tea. "Would you like some tea, Ms. Harker?"

            "…Oh, yes…please." She muttered absently, rubbing her chin in thought. 

            "As far as Mr. Jekyll told me," Nemo continued, watching the steaming stream of black liquid as it filled the small cup. "He feels that he is adopting parts of Hyde onto himself. He feels that Hyde has little to do with these outbursts, that they are entirely his own. It terrifies him."

            "So I can imagine…" she agreed taking her tea and sipping it. "I had no idea this was going on."

            "Nor did any of us up until yesterday. I believe we should speak to Agent Sawyer and Mr. Skinner when they're about. I know that they both played some sort of hand." He watched a throng of about five servants now serving breakfast on the table. They did their best to ignore what was being said, but he could sense their curiousity, causing him to lower his voice secretively. "And there is another reason why I tell you this, Ms. Harker."

            "And what would that be?" she queried, feeling a headache coming on.

            "I think that if anyone can help him, aside from himself, it would be you."

            "Why is that?"   

            "He told me that he was in love with you." Nemo said in an even more quiet tone. "If that means anything to him, he will fight for you. And I was rather hoping, given my limited studies of chemical compounds, that you could work with him to…"

            "…What are you saying, Nemo?" she set her cup down and took a step forward, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to help him reverse the effects of his syrum? Is that what you're after?"

            "Perhaps, if it can be done. Or at least attempt to solve this new emotional chaos that has seemed to befall him. For him, hope and reason lie completely with you."

            "If I…" she shook her head. "If I can help the man, surely I will."

            "I am glad to hear it." Nemo looked over as he heard both Skinner and Sawyer coming into the room. "Agent Sawyer, Mr. Skinner." Nemo greeted, standing to face them with his hands behind his back. 

            "Hey there, Nemo." Skinner said with a wave, cracking his neck. 

            "Hey." Tom followed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

            "We were just speaking of you, so it happens." Mina said as she turned to face Skinner, who was at the table with a cup of coffee already. 

            "Really?" he said dully, taking a drink.

            "We were rather discussing Mr. Jekyll." Nemo explained, motion for Tom to sit down. "And the circumstances surrounding his outburst."

            "Man's a loon." Skinner replied under his breath.

            "He has a problem, Skinner." Mina said irritably. "You could at least show some decent concern."

            "Well excuse me." He mumbled.

            "So where is he?" Tom asked.

            "He isn't up yet." Mina said as she straightened her hair. "I was going to get him up, but in light of the situation, I'm not sure that I should."

            "What's wrong with 'im?" Skinner prodded, sitting in a chair.

            Nemo took in a breath, shaking his head. "He is having problems with the Mr. Hyde."

            "Even _I_ coulda guessed that." He snorted, biting into a piece of toast. 

            "Henry has lived alone for years with no one but Hyde for company. Reacting in a social environment must be difficult for him." Mina leaned against the side of the table with an exasperated sigh. "I just wish there were an easy solution…"

            "There is." Skinner grunted. "Either find a way to get rid of Hyde, or get rid a'both a'them altogether." 

            "This isn't funny." Mina scowled.

            "Well who said it was?" Skinner tossed the corner of toast back onto the wooden table. "This isn't somethin' we can go fuckin' around with. Someone's gonna get hurt."

            "That's a chance I'm willing to take." She snapped back.

            "Not me." Skinner countered. 

            "Well if you can't take care of yourself, that is _your_ problem." She stared at him with icy vampiric eyes. "Are you honestly so selfish that you can't aid a man in need simply because it provides an inconvenience?"

            "Selfish? You've gotta be kiddin' me, are you nuts?" he growled. "It ain't me I'm worried about. You can defend yourself. Fine. I can take care a'my own. Fine. Nemo can get out of a scrape pretty good and Tom does well for 'imself, I'm worried about the rest a'this bloody crew. There's what, a hundred? Two? That's a lot a'lives we're talkin' about if this thing gets out of control. And when it comes down to it, the risk ain't worth it."

            "We've gotten out of worse problems than this before." She quipped coolly, glancing over at Nemo. "If we could just understand what is going on in his head. Can I ask you, Mr. Sawyer, what you did that set him off before?"

            Tom looked up and raised his eyebrows. "Me? I didn't do a damn thing. It was you wishin' me good mornin' that pushed him off his rocker."

            A pang of guilt hit her as she looked away, remembering how she had almost unconsciously put on a flirtatious attitude with him the previous day. "Yes, well…you must have said _something_."

            "Yeah." He confessed, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. "I asked what was wrong with 'im and he blew up on me."

            Mina momentarily paused in disappointment, having gotten no further than where she began in her quest for answers. "Then what is it that he said to you?"

            Tom opened his mouth breifly, slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, I-"

            "What does it matter?" Skinner intervened. "Point's that he lost his head. What are we gonna do about it?"

            She took a while to glare at Skinner's form in annoyance before looking back to Nemo and Tom. "The only thing that we can do is speak to him. To try and understand what he is going through."

            "Who's to say he's even up for talkin' about it?" Tom sat up. "He's been pretty scarce around here since yesterday."

            "He is going to have to come to terms with the fact that he has no choice." Nemo said. "He knows what is right. He has reached out to us thus far, getting him to go a little further should not be a difficult task. And if he is unwilling to deal with the problem, I will purpose the obvious ultimatum. Either he gets this dillemma under his control, or he will not be welcome among us."

            The room fell silent for a long while, each processing the whirlwind of sudden anxiety that they now faced. Mina looked down at the hankerchief in her hands once again and stood up straight, shoving it down into her pocket. "Well, all the same he will be expecting me soon. I suppose I should go and get him."

            "Yes." Nemo nodded to her as she left the room. "And…Agent Sawyer, if you don't think I'm being too overly cautious…"

            "Say no more." Said Tom, holding up a hand. "I'll go. Don't wanna make this worse than it already is." He stood and motioned a short wave as he exited the room.

            Skinner looked over at Nemo with a strained sigh. "We're fallin' apart at the seams already, eh?"

            "Not necessarily, Mr. Skinner." Nemo replied. "Not if we don't allow ourselves to."


End file.
